Tattoo Kiss Novels & Stories

All at once, his eyes show desire and something else that I can’t decipher, but then he lifts me up and places me on his lap. As he breaks the kiss, he whispers, “Now, this is what I am talking about. I have missed your sweet lips and the touch of your skin for too long. I needed this and by the looks of it, so did you. Am I right?” He winks at me and then caresses my nipples with his palms.

I look at her one last time to make sure she wants it, she nods, I can go. Her eyes are filled with pleasure and still unfulfilled desires. I slowly dive between her folds, gently advancing, I reach a barrier and stop for a moment. I lean towards her to seal our lips in a wild, intoxicating kiss. She returns my kiss eagerly, followed by two minutes of pure bliss. Her mouth is sweet, it tastes of ripe strawberries. I drink from her lips with delight. And I cross the threshold, slowly but surely. She was so focused on the kiss that she didn't feel any pain. Still with my lips pressed to hers, I slowly pull out to enter a second time. She lets out a sigh of relief. I break our kiss to ask her:

He mumbled before spotting it. His finger brushed against the tiny tattoo on my chest, just above my heart; It was an ace symbol. "I do not belong to you, but my heart, my heart belongs to you" I whispered. "Happy birthday Ace" I mumbled as his eyes locked with mine and he leaned in for a kiss. He placed his hand on the back of my neck, pulling me into a kiss. He used his other hand that was resting on my lower back, to pull me impossibly close to him. I could feel him getting hard under me.

He observed, desire lacing his voice. “Yes.” She huskily answered. “When you’re ready, pet.” He reminded her. “I’m not going to encourage anything right now. It’s too close to your anniversary of losing them. But I really do want to kiss you.” She thought about it for a moment and then slowly moved up to press her lips to his. Fighting with himself, he kept it light and kept his desire at bay. When she pulled away, he let her. Reluctantly. “You need a tattoo.” Ink suddenly declared. “Do you have any of their ashes that you can get to?”

"Always remind you that you are not alone?" "We have the matching tattoos for that." I giggle. "A constant reminder that we are not alone. You are a part of me now. No, you are mine now!" "I like the sound of that." He stares at my lips. "I'm yours. All yours." We share a passionate fierce kiss. My hands on his neck. His hands in my hair. His lips are soft and sweet and silky. It takes every ounce of strength for me to pull away. "No." He begs. "Please kiss me!"

“I need to feel you.” I peeled off the gloves, tossing them aside. My bare fingers traced the fresh lines I’d just inked—warm, slightly raised, sensitive. She shivered hard when I touched them. The pain from the needle was still fresh, mixing with something else as I leaned down. My lips brushed the unmarked skin just above the tattoo, then lower. I pressed a slow, open-mouthed kiss right beside the fresh ink, tasting the faint salt of her skin and the sharp tang of antiseptic.

Like surrendering to something I’d tried so hard to resist. He worked slowly, methodically. Like an artist etching his name into his masterpiece. When he finally stopped, I was breathless. My skin throbbed where his initials were now etched into me—C.M., bold and permanent. He leaned over and pressed a kiss just above the tattoo, lips barely grazing my skin. “You’ll always come back now,” he said. And I knew he was right.

The more I fall in love with him, the more he shows me that he loves me. He hovers over me, as I run my hands around his neck, claiming my lip vigorously. Our kiss was hungry, lustful, and full of passion. I let out a sudden moan, his grip on my waist tightening. He pulls my shirt over my head, tossing it to the floor. He undoes his shirt, tossing it to the floor. His chest is almost covered in tattoos now, adding our babies' names, mine and his together, and various others. He looks incredibly sexy. I run my hands over his arms, his skin filling with goosebumps where my hand trails. He crashed down on top of me again, kissing me hard and lustfully. Our tongues danced in sync.

Denis had already calculated the time that could be spent carving tattoos on the bodies of men in their early thirties in front of Racher Art. Denis quickly got up and greeted the arrival of the man named Benjie. He wanted a tattoo of his lover on his back, and Denis had discussed with him about two months ago for today's moment. "I'm thrilled to have my turn to visit here finally," Benjie said after shaking hands with Denis, smiling warmly. "I hope you didn't get bored while waiting for this day." Benjie shook his head. "It's not boring, and it's more my nerves."

She tossed her leg over mine and leaned in, kissing me deeply. Her tongue slid sensually against mine. The kiss was a little weak, she was already spent, but no less perfect. I could taste myself on her lips just as she could still taste herself on mine. I lazily kissed her back with slow, soft kisses while her delicate fingers gently traced the dark, intricate tattoos winding along my left forearm, fierce wolves, ancient runes, and tribal patterns that told the story of my bloodline and pack. “These are so beautiful,” she whispered against my mouth, her tongue feather-light and reverent. “One day… will you tell me what they all mean?”